


The Wolverine

by Wordprism



Category: The Wolverine (2013), X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Immortality, Loss of Control, Love, M/M, Marvel 616 (Freeform), Memory Loss, Nightmares, Pain, Romance, Superheroes, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, animal - Freeform, chapters, hugh jackman - Freeform, james marsden - Freeform, scogan - Freeform, scottlogan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:14:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordprism/pseuds/Wordprism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(movie based)<br/>Past all the flashbacks of his love for Scott Summers, Logan is sent to Japan, where he becomes reawakened about the pain and losses he has suffered.  What is worth giving up to have something he's always dreamed of?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

               

   -Chapter One-  

            It began as it always did.  A dream of battle.  A nightmare of war.  Sometimes it would be the Civil War.  Other times, the world wars would create a presence as well.  Each vision was worse than the last, trapping Logan in a cage of sleep and horror.  He’s never been so eager to get himself to open his eyes.   He could almost sense his stomach dropping from the same height as the bomb that was currently falling over Hiroshima.  When he caught sight of the dreadful aftermath, he shot awake to hear another voice cooing his name.

                “Logan, wake up…” the voice whispered again.

                He rolled over onto his other side. People he killed tended to do a splendid job of haunting him.  But Jean wasn’t there.

                His dreams were just becoming crueler.   Now it had just gotten out of hand.  Scott Summers, of all people to show up.  The one he’d loved all along but never had the guts to say it.  He always knew Scott had him figured out.  But they constantly kept a distance.

                “Was it the wars again?”  Scott asked in his innocent whisper and leaned closer to Logan, sitting up beside him and holding his arm as his legs folded closer under the covers.  He blinked a few times, this surreal dream giving him blue eyes and the same full lips he always had.  Logan guessed in Heaven his mutation was easily controllable.  His eyes were certainly striking, after all.  He looked as if he could barely keep awake, glancing down and planting several gentle kisses on Logan’s shoulder.

                “You’re here…” Logan struggled to whisper it, his tone husky and worried.

                “Of course,” Scott replied casually and near silent as Logan cupped his left cheek.  Scott already seemed to know what was coming.

                “Can you stay?” Logan came across more desperate than he had intended.

                Lifting his head, Scott’s nose was almost touching the feral’s.  “You know I can’t.”

                Was it some sort of curse that Logan could never be with anyone he loved? “Scott… I’m so sorry…” He’d developed an awful habit of blaming himself.

                “I know,” Scott whispered, looking Logan directly in the eyes.

                “I made a vow… I swear I’ll never hurt anyone…” James gritted his teeth in shame. “I’ll never hurt anyone again.”

                A spark of mockery taking the form of a red flare lit inside Scott’s eyes.  He raised his brows and nodded in a sarcastic understanding.  “A  _solemn_ vow,” he taunted sensually, almost amused.

                “You’re making fun of me?” Logan questioned as Scott continued to act soft and alone.

                “Everyone you love dies,” Summers scoffed, his voice never growing louder than a hushed coo.

                “I’m done with that, Scott, I told you-” Why would nobody believe him?  He was done as the Wolverine.  He was done with Weapon X.  He was done killing altogether.  A man can only do so much before the pain rebounds.  Glancing down, he found his claws had extended directly into Scott’s bare abdomen.  Blood was dripping all over the sheets, all over Scott’s body.

                “It’s too late,” Scott insisted.  His tone grew darker towards the ends of his words as he leaned his lips to Logan’s ear.  “You can’t hide…” He growled against Logan’s sideburn as enough blood left him to kill any individual, his eyes casting a dim red glow.

                “No, no, SCOTT NO!” Logan’s forehead was dripping with sweat as he attempted to stop the rushes of blood, the world spinning around him.  Scott was going to die.  It was all Logan’s fault. With one last yell, Logan began to hear music.  Then dark.

                His mind rushed back to reality as he opened his eyes to find himself staring down the Canadian mountainside, while that stupid little crank radio was stuck on the classical channel.  Logan rubbed his unshaven face, almost knocking a bottle of whiskey off of the rocks he slept on.  He slapped the back of the radio until the sound became fuzzy and then silent.


	2. Chapter 2

The crank radio finally cut off from playing that irritating music.  Logan blinked a few times, shoving his belongings away from the edge of the rocks.  The whiskey, which he was running low on, his radio, which needed batteries desperately, and the small box he kept, filled with pictures of his loved ones.  Mostly Jean.  He silently cursed himself for not possessing any of Scott.

                Standing to make his way down the hillside to his town, he began to follow the pattern of three parallel slashes on the tree bark.  He ran his hand over the slices in the wood, quickly extending his claws and splitting another group of lines on the tree.  They came together as a bit of a lopsided ‘X’.   In a sense, it was a way of marking his territory. As he continued on his way, the snow crunching beneath his boots, Logan stopped to look at all the wildlife.  Birds here and there that all seemed to be happy in the frigid climate.

                Without warning, a grunt from another creature rolled through the snow painted hillside.  Stepping down the rocks and moving closer to town, Logan could now view the grizzly bear that slowly moved parallel to him, with no more than twenty feet of distance separating them.  Intrigued, Logan kept still for a moment, craning his neck downwards to get a view that wasn’t obscured by tree limbs.  Logan could almost feel the animalistic connection to himself.  The great brown bear was feared in its solitude, roaming without a purpose.  However, the deep train of the Canadian’s thoughts broke instantly when the grizzly lifted its leg and let a thick stream of urine taint the pure snow.

                Logan cringed and crossed the empty street, passing a rowdy pack of hunters as they gloated about their latest kill.  Once inside the small store, he picked up a pack of batteries and paid the young woman running the cash register.  “You a hunter?”  It was a fair question.  It seemed like almost everyone in this town was.

                “Not anymore,” Logan breathed out roughly, returning to the mountainside cave afterwards.  He hadn’t noticed the pair of eyes trailing him through the parking lot.

                That night, thunder clapped and shook the trees, lightning illuminating the forest for a split second.  Among the noises that disturbed the forest life, Logan woke to a growl and what sounded like an animal’s cry of distress.   He got himself up, not having to walk too far before finding a wrecked campsite.  Rain slicked the collapsed tent, and articles of clothing were torn and strewn onto tree branches.

                Only a short distance away laid the grizzly, deep roars and groans swelling in its throat.  Of course it was in pain, there was an arrow lodged in its side.  Logan knelt by the bear, which lifted its head as it bellowed in agony at the feel of the arrow being ripped out.  The arrowhead was coated in poison.  “Come on…” Logan encouraged, staring down at the beast who would most likely die a slow painful death.  “Don’t make me do this.”  He’d just vowed to stop killing.  What a great start he was off to.  Extending his claws, Logan had no choice but to drive them deep into the bear’s neck, putting it out of its misery.  Someone was going to get it.

                Logan clutched the arrow behind his back and entered  the bar at the base of the mountain.  Everyone was turned towards a man who leaned casually against a column in the center of the room, a bottle of liquor and several shot glasses at his side as he describe the grizzly as if it originated from another universe.  “It just came outta’ nowhere…”

                “You the one who was attacked by the grizzly?” Logan questioned as he walked in, his voice deep yet casual.

                “I’m the one who survived.”  The man looked back towards his fanbase and fed off of the sympathy and admiration they gave off.  His voice was filled with pain, as if he just needed attention that badly.

                _Bullshit,_ Logan thought to himself.  Instead, he took on a pleased air.  “I’d like to buy this man a drink.”  He walked over to the man, leaning on the wall as if he had no secret intentions.  After a quick grin, Logan lifted the arrow and stabbed it straight through the hunter’s hand which rested on the table. “Like an arrow tipped with poison, which I’m pretty sure is illegal.  And not even the guts to use a lethal dose, just leaving it pissed off so it goes around attacking innocent people.”  Logan growled and dug the arrowhead deeper into the man’s hand so that it broke his palm and dug into the wooden table.  Everyone in the room froze dead in their tracks, the poacher’s eyes going wide with fear.  “Go ahead, ask me where I found it,” Logan insisted with his brows angrily furrowed.  When the man failed to reply, Logan picked up a shot glass and slowly let its contents trickle into the wound through the man’s hand caused by the arrow.  “I said, ask me where I found it.”

                Gasping and stuttering in pain, the man choked out the words.  “W-where did you find it?”

                Logan nodded his head to the side as if he were pondering an answer, pressing his lips into a thin line before he spoke in a light chuckle.  “Funny you should ask.” He dug the arrowhead in deeper, refusing to let go.  With a staged form of surprise, his eyes lit up before he gritted his teeth.  “I found it in the back of a grizzly.”

                All hell broke loose when Logan extended his claws, the room smelling of panic and horror.  He paused when he felt a hand on his shoulder, an Asian girl with bright red hair standing beside him.  “I wouldn’t bother with them,” she insisted quietly with a heavy Japanese accent.

                “Why not.” Logan raised a brow and retracted his claws.

                “Three of them a week from now, die in the same truck.”  The redhead stepped forward and elegantly pulled a sword from its sheath.  She gave its name, which originated back from early Samurai times, as her hands tilted it to reflect the light.  “It means separation.  As in head and limb, from body.”  With a quick flick of her wrist, the sword spun in her hand and didn’t appear to do any damage.  Within a few seconds delay, the legs of a bar stool another hunter sat on collapsed in two pieces, and the base of someone’s beer bottle popped off and landed with a crash on the floor.  “Come with me,” she insisted.

                Logan had no idea why, but something told him he should follow.


	3. Chapter 3

The redheaded girl took the wheel, craning her neck and putting her bag in the back seat so Logan could get in.  The passenger side was covered in empty bags of chips which she casually brushed off.  “Get in,” she stated.

                Logan raised a brow and sat down, shutting his door. _Who the hell was this?_

                “Sorry, it’s a rental,” she apologized as she pulled out onto the road. 

                “Who are you?” Logan demanded an answer while keeping his voice steady.

                “I, am Yukio.”  She nodded and kept her eyes on the road.

                Logan raised a brow as if that were supposed to mean something to him.  But the girl kept talking as she nodded towards some items in the back seat.   He picked up a file, filled with pictures of him and the X-men.  Alongside it was a long, traditional Japanese sword.

                “I’ve been trying to find you for over a year.  That sword was my masters. Master Yashido.  You saved his life many years back in the war.  He wanted you to have it as repayment.”

                Logan glanced at the sword and nodded in approval as he recalled the sound of the bomb bursting in Hiroshima.  Prisoners were let loose, men committed suicide… war was a mess.  “Is that all you came to tell me?”

                “He wanted to say goodbye.  A special farewell since he is very ill.”

                “Alright, so take me ta’ Mr. Yashido and I’ll say goodbye.  Where is he?”  Logan’s tone was casual as he glanced over at Yukio.

                “Tokyo,” she stated simply.

                Logan fell silent. _What in the hell-._ “…I’m- I’m not goin’ to _Tokyo._   You can go there and tell him I said goodbye.”

                “But… to refuse his request would be to dishonor him.”

                “I’m not going to Tokyo.” Logan had his mind made up, and there was no changing it.  What was this girl thinking?

                “I understand.  It was an honor just to meet the Wolverine.”

                That name.  It brought all of Logan’s memories back.  The good, the trying, the bad, and thoughts that Logan had spent years blocking from his mind.  Tearing people to shreds, a pawn of cruel games.  His voice deepened into a menacing snarl.  “That’s not who I am anymore, understand?”

                “But…”

                “Do you understand?” Logan interrupted.

                “Then why did you walk into the bar? Because all soldiers seek justice.”  Yukio smirked, knowing her statement had already won her this argument.

                “I-…” Logan huffed at the fact he had no comeback.  “That isn’t what that was.”

                “And you seek what all soldiers seek.  To die an honorable death.”

                “ _One_ day.  I say goodbye to Mr. Yashida’ and then straight back here.”

                It was better than nothing.  The red haired mutant’s lips cracked into a smirk as she took the next exit towards the airport.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan has an intense, reoccurring dream on the jet to Tokyo. {Movie Based}

“So, you can predict the future, huh?”  Logan clutched the armrests as Yukio curled up to nap on another chair.  The turbulence of the jet somehow poked Logan’s core enough to make him uneasy.  Maybe it was peeling back the surface for memories of war to return.

                “No,” she stated simply.

                “Well, if those three actually die like you say they will, I’d consider that quite some talent.” He tipped back the scotch and raised a brow underneath his scraggly hair.

                Before Yukio could go into detail, she was already half asleep.  “Not all of us have claws, Logan.”

                “So do I die on this plane?” He remarked.

                “Not on this plane.”  Following the statement, she was sound asleep.

                _Mutant,_ he thought to himself. The last couple of words she’d said only forced more anxiety upon him.  So, he wouldn’t die on this plane, but was he going to die after all? And when?  Logan had planned to stay awake the entire trip for fear of the horrid, taunting memories that pressured their way into his skull while asleep.  But he couldn’t help himself.  What else was he going to do besides stare out the window and sip at vodka and scotch for seven hours?  With enough effort, he kept his eyes shut and leaned his head back, dreams seeping into his tired soul.

                “ _Good morning, Love.” Scott sat adjacent to Logan in their bed, tenderly tracing his fingers through the feral’s hair. “Sleep well?”_

_Somehow, the sight of Scott quenched Logan’s inner thirst for closure. He was certain Scott had a conscience somewhere.  It was the only explanation there could be for such vivid dreams.  After Jean had been deemed gone, Scott slipped into a full mental and physical depression.  He drank heavily and seldom showed up to his classes. Soon, he began having visions that Jean was still out there… somewhere.  Logan had sensed in his gut that something was about to go terribly wrong.  He’d gripped Scott’s arm when he tried to head for the lake, and insisted he stay home.  But Scott wanted none of it.  He gave Logan a melancholy gaze, his handsome features brought down by his torn spirit.  Then Logan let him go, something he would always regret, especially after realizing that Scott never threw out the notes they passed during some of the Professor’s lectures.  Guess he kind of felt like a schoolboy again.  The worst part was finding the crumpled up note separate from all the rest.  When Logan neatly unfolded it in his palm, he was overcome with dizziness. ‘You’re no animal,’ it read. ‘I don’t love animals.’ Logan could still reach his fingertips to his cheeks and feel the tear streaks along his face.  The sobs were burning, almost singing through his immortal skin as he steadied himself on the vacant desk that once belonged to Scott.  His scent still lingered around the room, wrapping up against Logan’s nose in a desperate cry to be remembered, not forgotten like all the rest.  Whatever it was, a little boy’s crush or if he truly had hidden feelings, Logan had never bothered to comprehend it.   But seeing that Scott was here now, Logan’s body fluttered with relief with the impression he could redeem himself for his past ignorance._

_“I slept fine…” Logan sat up, his toned back stretching as he pushed his shoulder blades together.  “I slept well, actually…”_

_“I’m glad.”  Scott wasted no time laying on his back to Logan’s right, the back of his head neatly cushioned by Logan’s lap.  He stared up at the Canadian with serene, blue eyes as miniature red fireworks ignited within them._

_“I’m sorry Scott…” Logan whispered in his husky tone, tracing Scott’s defined jaw as if a single contact by skin would cause him to vanish._

_Scott simply shook his head as if to say, ‘Don’t be,’ and tilted his smooth cheek into Logan’s warming palm. “Just stay this time, Logan… You always leave… I need you here. We’ve got a school to teach, things to do and people to see… Stop dreaming…” He locked his fingers around the back of Logan’s neck, bringing his head down to touch their lips ever so sensitively together.  Scott’s lips moved in a slow, passionate dance against Logan’s.  Perhaps a waltz tempo, inhaling as the man of his dreams exhaled. Opening his eyes for what felt like the first time in thousands of years, Scott scrutinized the love radiating from within Logan’s own, inviting brown eyes.  “Please, stop dreaming… wake up and stay with me… Wake up…”_

“Wake up…”

                “Logan, wake up! LOGAN!”

                The Wolverine snapped awake, eyes wide and sensitive to the light streaming through the jet windows. “What the-”  Oh, how time can fly.  _Time._   The word had little meaning to Logan any more.  All that mattered was here and now.  And here he was, finally in Tokyo.


	5. Loofahs and Cherry Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan finally makes it to Japan, but he won't be able to complete his duties there looking like a caveman.

The drive to Yashida’s complex was saturated with city lights.  Bright billboards flashed as often as they did in Times Square, but gradually depleted as the estate home came into view.

                “He wishes to speak to you about something, something only you would know.”

                “Alright, just tell me where he is so we can get this over with.”   Logan adjusted his worn down leather jacket and pushed his dark, shaggy hair from his eyes.  He looked like a rather dedicated Duck Dynasty fan.  Logan stood and gazed out into the open courtyard, studying the Japanese miniature gardens and miniscule waterfalls that filled the lake surrounded by orchids and loti.  Whatever the deal was, it had to be pretty important if it meant he had to travel halfway around the world to do so.  “You there?” he susurrated to Yukio, who still hadn’t answered.  He turned around to find her speaking with another young woman who was dressed in a simple white kimono. 

_Any day now._

The truth was that he did have all the time in the world.  There was no use complaining about wasting his time when all he’d done for the past year or so was sleep in a cave and grow even more facial hair than he already possessed.  Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, all he could do now was wait until the dark haired girl went on her way and left Yukio alone.

“Alright, let’s get going.”  Regardless of Logan’s quantity of spare time, he was still an impatient man.  However, Yukio held him back.

“You’re not going in there looking like that.”

\------------------------------------------------------

The women stripped him down and threw Logan into the scalding tub water before he could protest.  He choked on the scent of cherry blossom and gripped the edge of the tub, his mop of hair hindering his sight while he coughed.  His skin glistened with the water steaming off of it, but the women didn’t really care about that.  All that mattered to them was cleaning off the dirty boy they were given.  _Bunch of feisty old ladies._

One of them held up a pair of scissors and began chopping at Logan’s heap of dark hair.  “No, no no.” He grabbed at the edge of the tub in order to pull himself out, but he was shoved back in like a puppy getting a bath against its will.  There was a razor held to his cheek and used to trim his scraggly sideburns.  “Ah- God stop it!”  The women didn’t even speak English, as far as Logan knew.  One just started yelling at him like he stole from the cookie jar in Japanese before shoving him back into the water.  He blew bath water and bubbles out of his mouth and shook his wet hair, taken aback when his menacing growl went unnoticed.

Then they began to scrub him down.  The loofah dug and scoured with no mercy at his chest, scratching at his strong pectorals and shoulders.  Logan continued to flail around in the bath, twisting and turning his hips and shoulders to avoid the scrubbing brush he saw as an enemy.  He lifted his arms and hands to about eyes level as he stood up in the hip-deep tub. 

_Boy, Scott would’ve gotten a kick out of watching this. Probably would’ve been laughing his tight ass off._

The ferocious loofah then approached his manhood, which was a big, fat no-no for Logan.  “Hey!” He growled and dodged to the side, only to be pursued like prey by the fluffy brush. His manhood was still untouched, thank God, and he intended on keeping it that way. He didn’t need his genitals scrubbed, that was for damn sure.  In a spurt of quick thinking, he grabbed the loofah and stepped back from the edge of the tub, twisting around and sinking onto his knees while shooting a glare at his violators.  “I can do that part myself.”


End file.
